Broken
by Elessie
Summary: Elly Surana may be book smart, but she is far from people smart. As she's thrown into the unfamiliar role of a Grey Warden, she'll have to find her courage if there's to be any hope of stopping the Blight. Surana/Cullen. Spoilers.
1. Broken Mage

Dragon Age Origins and its character's are Bioware's.

**Broken Mage**

_Some elves come out of the alienage full of hate. Some come out full of fear. Some rare elves come out with hope still burning inside. But some just come out very quiet and broken._

Elesse Surana spent every free waking minute in the tower's library. It was a refuge for her, where she could lose herself for hours in the marvelous books and scrolls. It didn't matter what the subject matter was; for her, magic theory was just as pleasing as the clever little anecdotes. Perusing the heavier works often had the side benefit of helping with her lessons, freeing up more time to spend reading.

With her nose in a good book she was in a world of her own. But she couldn't help noticing - whenever she returned a book to the shelves - that the curly-haired templar stationed at the door seemed to be staring at her an awful lot. She did her best to ignore it, grabbing the next book and retreating back to her table. She thought she should be used to the staring by now. Her unusual appearance had earned her uneasy looks her whole life. At least it wasn't as common at the tower as it had been in the alienage.

The combination of her bright red hair and slanted, sienna orange eyes tended to unsettle people. Some seemed to expect her to turn into a demon right in front of them. When she was little, Elly had overheard her mother telling her father that she'd had a brother with eyes the same color, but he had died very young. Her father replied that he wished Elly had died very young too. Not making a sound, the child had slunk back to her favorite spot among the vhenadahl's roots to daydream about what life might have been like if her uncle had lived.

Nobody had seemed the least bit surprised when she'd turned out to be a mage and was taken away to the tower. Once the young elf finally understood, she'd been willing to go. She had no strong ties to the alienage. The tower turned out to be something of an improvement: the residents were no more wary of her than they were of any other mage. Of course, that didn't stop the other children from shunning the child who 'looked different.' Elly kept to herself as much as she could, hidden behind a shield-like silence.

When they taught her how to read and introduced her to the library, she'd discovered a wonderful new world. The books were always there for her: thousands of doors leading to new, amazing places, just waiting to be opened. The most faithful of friends, they never judged or betrayed her.

So she ignored the templar's stare just as she ignored the rest. And she was shocked when, a few weeks later, he nervously cleared his throat and greeted her as she entered the library.

Over the last few weeks Elly had noticed that her training seemed to be winding down. Her mentor had given her more tests than actual lessons lately, and even more free time to spend in the library. So while she missed most of the considering looks she'd been getting from the older mages all day, she was not shocked when she was woken during the night.

She'd never had much trouble with her lessons, and she was as well informed as any apprentice could be. So despite the templars' dire expressions, she wasn't too nervous about the Harrowing. Even so, it was a relief to see a familiar face among them. Cullen, the curly-haired templar from the library, actually looked more nervous than she did. She gave him the tiniest hint of a smile, and saw a little bit of the tension go out of his face. They were both so reticent they'd not gotten far past exchanging shy greetings every day as she entered the library. But sometimes, when she got up for a fresh book, she'd catch him smiling at her, and amazingly enough she found herself smiling back. And unexpected though it was, it was _nice_.

The Harrowing wasn't quite what she'd imagined it would be, but she prevailed without too much difficulty. She woke up in her own bed, with Jowan standing nearby, anxiously shifting from foot to foot. "Elly, you're awake!" he cried, reaching down to help her up from the bed. Jowan had always been a bit odd himself, so he and Elly got along just fine. They'd spent many evenings talking about some of the more obscure knowledge they'd come across, while the other apprentices relaxed or invented games to entertain themselves.

But as she got to her feet, she found that Jowan only wanted to discuss her Harrowing. She regretfully dodged his entreaty for details, reassuring him that he was probably over prepared already and he'd do fine. She waved off his protests of having been there longer with a half-teasing "But I study harder!" and went to see what the First Enchanter wanted with her.

On the way to Irving's office she came across Cullen standing in the hallway. He looked relieved to see her up and about. "Hello, Elly," he greeted her, "I- I hope you're f-feeling well."

"You're not in the library," Elly gasped out before she caught herself. "Er, I mean, hello Cullen." She felt the start of a blush creeping across her cheeks. "Thank you, I feel fine."

"Oh, well uh, they change the postings up. Every 6 months or so. So nobody- so we don't get too, uh, comfortable." Cullen seemed to be turning an interesting shade of red as well. "Look, they ch- chose me to be at your Harrowing. I was to...you know..." He made a sword sweep gesture. "If you... you know." He made a 'rawr monster' face, and in spite of the subject Elly had to bite down hard on her lip to keep from laughing. But Cullen looked at her seriously as he continued. "But it's nothing personal! I- I'm just glad you're alright." He suddenly seemed to find something very interesting on his boots. "Just wanted you to know."

It was the most she'd ever heard Cullen speak at once. Elly shrugged helplessly and stopped fighting the smile that was trying to spread across her face. "Actually I was glad to see you there."

"Wh- What! At your Harrowing? Why?" Cullen's face turned back up to give her a baffled look.

Elly was sure her cheeks were as red as her hair now, but she bravely forged – or stumbled - on ahead. "Er, well. I guess you just- Ahem." Her voice dropped to a barely intelligible mutter. "Well, you make me feel sort of... safe." Suddenly back at a normal volume she burst into a flurry of excuses. "I shouldn't distract you from your duties. I'm supposed to go see Irving. I think something is on fire in the kitchen; I should go see if they need help. Or maybe it's just my face that's burning. I should...go." She started to slowly back away.

Cullen positively gaped at her for a moment, but then quickly waved his hands before she could escape. "Oh, you're not distracting. I mean, you are, but...well you're not." He winced at his words. "I mean, you can talk to me anytime you want." His face was surely as red as hers as he waited until he finally got a small nod from her in return. "Uh, yes. Maybe we can talk another time."

Elly somehow managed a small wave before she turned and fled towards Irving's office. She had to summon a bit of frost to cool her face, but she had regained her composure by the time she knocked on the First Enchanter's door. Despite the fact that he'd obviously just been arguing with the Knight-Commander, Irving looked pleased to see her. After introducing her to the Grey Warden, he congratulated her on becoming a mage of the Circle. As Elly grinned and thanked him, she realized she was actually starting to feel proud of her accomplishments. The Circle certainly wasn't perfect, but it was home.

She didn't know that in just a few hours' time, she'd be ordered by this man to betray one of the few precious friends she had.


	2. Broken Circle

**Broken Circle**

Elly stared through the transparent walls of the magic cage at the tormented prisoner trapped within. Though her face had flushed a hot red when he'd described his visions, visions of _her_, the color was swiftly draining from her face as he continued to call for the death of all the mages above. It left her feeling light-headed, and she struggled to focus. Tentatively, she laid a hand on the wall, as if she could reach through and touch him. "Please, Cullen, don't ask me to do this."

The templar gave a disgusted sigh and turned away from her. She hadn't thought something could rattle her more than the frantic ranting she'd just heard. She'd been considerably wrong.

She tried to argue that she shouldn't make such a decision without first observing the situation. When she added that she just couldn't condemn innocent people to death, Shale and Sten had converged on her, radiating disapproval.

The golem didn't have much in the way of facial expressions, but her tone was full of reproach. "Has it considered the fact that ridding the world of these mages might be of benefit? The templars will still help with its war. Why make things difficult?"

The qunari's face was almost as impassive as the golem's. His words were less heated, but his tone brooked no dissent. He nodded toward the caged templar. "What he says makes sense. Do not discard it out of hand… these mages are out of control."

"But, _I'm_ a mage," she protested.

Sten was unmoved. "The responsibility of what you are should then be even clearer. Act before the danger spreads."

"That's… it's _not_ my duty, Sten. Greagoir and Irving – if he still lives – can make that decision."

"A coward's choice," the qunari declared. Shale rumbled her agreement.

Elly, tilting her head back to regard the intimidating figures before her, couldn't avoid cringing a little. Could they be right? It seemed far more likely that it was she who was wrong, if they were all in agreement. She was a mage herself; perhaps she didn't have enough distance to make a decision...

As she wavered uncertainly under their pressure, she caught sight of Wynne's worried face. Not _all_ here thought the mages should die. Elly considered the grandmotherly woman, though Wynne kept looking impatiently at the stairs up to the Harrowing Chamber. Obviously mages could be dangerous, but Wynne was proof that they could be admirable too. The woman's courage, strength of will, and dedication could not be denied. Elly thought she'd much rather be like Wynne than like Sten or Shale. The circle was her home and it was worth preserving.

Cullen's desperation made her feel like breaking down, but she couldn't do that, not here. So she did something very rare for her and gave her anger free reign instead. "NO!" she broke the silence, startling her companions and even herself with her volume. "You cannot ask me to slaughter my... my _family_ simply because you _aren't sure_ whether or not they _might_ be maleficarum."

Grabbing the skirt of her robe so she could spin around unhampered, Elly stalked toward the stairs, leaving her stunned companions to scramble after her. She felt a bit stunned herself; she hadn't realized how she really felt about the Circle. As they worked their way up the final flight, she took the time to bottle up her emotions, sealing them tight. It wouldn't hold for long, but she only needed it to last until she could shut herself away in her tent, alone.


	3. Broken Knight

**Broken Knight**

Elly was surprised at how quickly Irving agreed to go to Redcliffe to help the possessed boy Conner. Perhaps the Circle's numbers were so reduced that it seemed worth the trip to gain another mage? Or two mages? But no, the Templars would never let Jowan live after all he'd done. She still deeply regretted how she'd allowed herself to be backed into a corner with that situation.

Irving said something about making preparations for the trip to Redcliffe, but Elly held up a hand to stall him. She took a deep breath and tried to look nonchalant. She hadn't gotten a chance to speak with Cullen after dealing with Uldred. Greagoir had him rushed him off to a quiet place to recover from his ordeal. Nor could she have waited around for a chance to see him; there was a Blight to deal with.

"First Enchanter," she began in what she hoped was a casual tone. "That…unsettled templar that we found on the way up to Uldred, is he doing any better?"

"You mean Cullen I suppose? Last I heard he was spending his time sulking in the library, glaring daggers at any mage who dared enter. I suppose that's on par for a templar, but Greagoir seems to be concerned."

Elly bit back a frown. Maybe that was how your average templar acted, but Cullen wasn't your average templar. He was _Cullen_. Somehow it seemed right that he was in the library. It was where she'd always found him, from the first day they'd spoken up until her Harrowing. "You know…your mention of the library just reminded me. I thought I'd read something in one of the older books about the darkspawn, but I can't quite remember exactly what It said. I'd like to look it over again. It might prove useful."

Irving gave her a considering look, but then he nodded. "Very well. I don't think I need to remind you of the need to hurry. I'll see you again in Redcliffe."

Elly walked back to where her companions waited by the door. They looked eager to be gone. Sten glowered when she told them she needed an hour in the library. "Darkspawn research," she assured them.

"What good will books do against the Blight? A blade would be more useful," the qunari declared.

"It's just an hour," the mage insisted. "You can go get something to eat, that way your time isn't wasted. You wouldn't want to come to the library anyway, it would be terribly boring."

She'd thought she'd been passing this off coolly enough, until Shale spoke up. "Interesting. Its skin has changed color to match its hair. I wasn't aware it could accessorize in that manner."

She cursed a bit under her breath and summoned just a touch of frost to cool her face down. "Look, the kitchen is that way." She waved them off in the right direction as she began her retreat. "I'll be back soon."

Her walk to the library was a painful one. Not much progress had been made in returning the tower to its former condition. The remains were gone, of course, but dried blood still stained the floor and walls, and broken furniture was scattered about or piled in a corner. Her nerve gave out about the time the library door came into view. She stopped short and stared at the entrance, suddenly intimidated by what she might find inside. Cullen had seemed completely unhinged the last time she'd seen him. But surely there had to be something left of the sweet young man she'd exchanged greetings with so often? Gathering her courage around her like a cloak, she counted to three under her breath and crossed the threshold.

The library was deserted. Most of it was still intact but the room was a mess. She'd heard the librarian on duty had died defending her charges. She offered a silent salute to the woman's memory. If not for the events of the last year, the mage would have happily spent the rest of her life in this very library. It didn't feel as warm and welcoming as she remembered though. It felt cold.

She turned to find a templar glaring at her. His expression was so harsh she almost didn't recognize him. But there could be no mistaking those copper curls. _Glaring daggers_, Irving had said. She had to agree as she stood there, pierced by that icy stare.

Neither of them moved for several minutes that seemed to stretch into eternity. Elly was just considering a retreat when the templar finally broke the silence. "What are you _doing_ here?" He sternly looked her up and down. "And what, in Andraste's name, have you done to your robe?"

Flustered, Elly actually had to look down at her robe to figure out what he was referring to. Oh, yes, _that_. "I didn't do it. Leliana did. She said she couldn't just stand by waiting for me to fall flat on my face with a hurlock bearing down on me. So she cut slits up the sides." That she cut them _very_ high went without saying. "So I could move more easily. I didn't like it at first but it's saved my life a few times." Cullen gave her a doubtful look but didn't comment. She nervously spoke about Conner and why she'd come to the Circle for a while before she realized she was just rambling. She clamped her mouth shut and looked towards the templar hopefully.

As Cullen's face clamped down even tighter, it occurred to her that mentioning an abomination might not have been the best idea. His hand was on his sword hilt now and his reply came out in a snarl. "Should have killed you all, _all_ of you." Though he made no move towards her, Elly broke and fled the library.

________________

Elly had tracked the Knight-Commander down in his office. A litany ran through her head over and over as she settled herself into a vacant chair. _Be calm. Be brave. Be bold. Be calm…_ As she prepared to launch into the speech she'd invented on her way up, Greagoir cleared his throat pointedly. "I have things to see to. Quickly, tell me why you needed to see me."

"Well," Elly began. _Brave_, she reminded herself. "I was trying to find a book I remembered about the darkspawn in the library, when I came across that templar, Cullen…"

Greagoir's expression became dire. "He hasn't done anything has he?"

"Er, not _done_ anything, no." Elly tried to release some of her tension in a sigh. "I don't think the tower is a good place for him right now. Maybe he should be somewhere more…away from mages. You probably heard that I've just come from Redcliffe. They could use him there. If they'd had such a, um, vigilant templar than maybe Jowan wouldn't have been able to teach Conner just enough magic to bring disaster on the whole place. I was thinking he could go with Irving and then stay at the chantry there for a while."

Greagoir looked very still and thoughtful throughout her explanation. "It's not all that bad of an idea actually," he acknowledged. "But Irving's group has already left for Redcliffe."

"Oh," was all she could think to say, deflated. "I see."

"I'd like to know why you're so concerned with this templar in the first place. Being a mage yourself it's hard to imagine you have his best interests at heart."

This question at least she had expected. She could even be honest in her answer, at least in part. "You know, he begged me to kill all those mages when we found him in that cage. I couldn't do it, couldn't give him peace _that_ way. But I'd like to help in some way if I can."

It was hard to tell if Greagoir believed her or not. But his face took on a resigned look. "I don't like just giving him up, but he's becoming a problem that we just don't have the resources to deal with right now. If you truly mean to help him, you may take him to Redcliffe. I'll write a letter to the Revered Mother there."

"Me?" Elly squeaked. "I just ran into him in the library and I'm pretty sure he _hates_ me."

"I thought you wanted to help." Greagoir continued to write out the letter in spite of her protests. "Those mercenaries of yours who've been terrorizing my kitchen staff seem capable enough." His tone made it clear that if Cullen just happened to kill her, well, one less troublesome mage to deal with in the future. He sealed the letter and handed it to her. "Go."

So much for calm, brave and bold, she thought. Elly couldn't stop her hand from trembling as she took the letter from the Knight-Commander. Avoiding his discerning gaze, she made her unsteady way back down to the kitchen to collect her companions.

Apparently word still traveled fast in the tower. By the time Elly's group made it to the tower's entrance, a very sullen templar was waiting for them. The look he sent them was so withering that even Zevran did not try to speak to him. Elly shamelessly put Shale between herself and the templar as he silently fell into place behind them.


	4. Broken Heart

**Broken Heart**

The journey back to Redcliffe seemed to be taking forever. Thanks to their late start, the group only made a little headway before the sun began to set. Elly was tempted to keep marching through the night, just to get there faster. But the sky was too clouded over and the lack of light forced them to make camp.

As she set the water boiling for dinner, Alistair stopped digging through their food supplies and turned to look at her. He gestured at Cullen in exasperation. "He's been pacing for hours. He's starting to make ruts in our campground. Somebody will trip during the night and break their neck, you'll see. Can't we make him go over and sit with Morrigan?"

She snorted softly, but refused to comment. Her fellow Gray Warden went back to fishing out the ingredients for his usual concoction. Elly hadn't known it was possible to mess up stew until she'd met Alistair. He continued trying to draw her into the conversation as he dropped things into the hot water. "I wonder who would win that fight. My money is on Morrigan. She's scary. And mean."

Dinner was awkward. Cullen's gloom cast a shadow over them as they sat around the fire to eat. Even the usual jokes about Alistair's bad cooking seemed to fall flat. Leliana tried to draw Cullen out several times but he only answered her in the fewest words possible and returned to his sulking. Wynne shot Elly a few meaningful glances. No doubt the senior mage already had a lecture ready and waiting. Not that the advice was usually unwelcome, but right now it was the last thing she needed.

When Leliana had finished her meal, or at least as much of it as she was willing to eat, she brought out her instruments and started with a peaceful, soothing tune. Cullen set aside his mostly full bowl and stalked off into the darkness. Elly could only shrug at the questioning looks sent her way. There was a minute or two where only the soft rhythm of Leliana's song drifted around the campfire. Then Alistair cracked a joke, Zevran made fun of him, and the tension seemed to evaporate.

By the time Leliana had finished two more songs, there was still no sign of Cullen. Elly began to wonder if he might have run off on them. She wasn't sure if she'd be disappointed or relieved. Nobody else seemed the least bit inclined to check up on their guest, despite the pleading looks she sent across the fire. So she grabbed the bucket of dirty dishwater to dump on the way and trudged off in the same direction.

She found him past the edge of the clearing they'd camped in. He hadn't actually gone far, but it was such a dark night that he wasn't visible from the ring of tents. He was standing of course. Like a statue, staring off into the dark forest. He didn't turn even when she set down the heavy bucket with a thump. "You should be careful not to get too far from the camp. There are darkspawn in this area. Not near our camp yet but close enough that I can feel them. Which means they can feel us too."

No response from the statue in front of her. "Look, Cullen, I'm sorry. I didn't mean for you to have to travel with me. I just wanted to get you out of the tower, away from the mages for a while. And you could make a difference in Redcliffe. They need the help."

"And what if something happens in the tower because I'm not there to stop it?" Cullen finally spoke but he still didn't turn around. "What if they aren't careful enough, don't watch the mages closely enough?" He shot an accusing look at her over his shoulder and growled, "They wouldn't listen to me. They wouldn't listen and now I'm not there to stop it."

Elly took a few tentative steps in his direction. "Cullen. Surely you can see that you're not well."

Now he did turn around to face her. "You think I don't know that?" he spat. "Every time I close my eyes I see their bodies. The blood. The burning. So many dead…" He took a step towards her. She'd always been aware of their height difference; her head was about level with his armored shoulders. But she'd never felt him _loom_ over her like this before. "And at night," he continued, "At night I dream about my time in that cage, and the things that demon _did_ to me." She could barely see his eyes in the dark but she thought she saw something wild glimmering there. He pointed at her, his voice filled with anger. "And _you_. You know what I saw in that cage. You _know_. And here you strut around, flaunting yourself, with your skirt slit up to your hips!"

Elly had been sympathetic as he started his speech. That lasted about until he got to the word 'strut.' Then she went through a quick succession of emotions: confusion, shock, embarrassment, and finally outrage. She wasn't normally one to lose her temper. But now she felt her control slipping again, just like before she'd faced Uldred. She couldn't believe he was actually saying these things to her. She was the last person in the world anyone would accuse of strutting. And she'd already explained to him why her robes were cut the way they were. "Obviously you don't care if I end up cut down by darkspawn. You'd probably be glad. But I have friends that _do_ care about my task, and we'll do whatever is necessary to end this Blight. If _you_ think it's so easy why don't _you_ go killed the damned Archdemon while I sit in the tower covered from head to toe!"

She was tempted to fling a spell at him, but he seemed to be ready for it. Instead she turned around, grabbed the bucket off the ground, and slung the dirty water at him. As soon as it hit his face she realized it had been a _really bad idea_. She opened her mouth to shout for backup, but his gauntleted hand was already closing around her throat. Why hadn't she brought the dog along with her? This was truly a stupid way to die after all she'd been through. Her eyes closed as it seemed there was nothing she could do but wait for the cold metal to crush the life out of her. But instead there was a sudden release of the pressure around her throat, and the thud of something heavy hitting the ground.

Her eyes sprung open to find him kneeling on the ground in front of her, all the violence drained out of him. She squinted to get a look at his grief-wracked face. He looked so lost and alone, exhausted now that the rage that had driven him for weeks had tapered off. Slowly, ready to jump back at any movement, she reached out a hand to touch his shoulder. When he didn't flinch or shrug it off, she gently ran her other hand through his copper curls. It felt as wonderful as she'd imagined it would. With a shudder that almost sent her running, he buried his face in the cloth across her stomach. So she stood there, silently stroking his hair, while he began the long journey back.


	5. The Long Road

**The Long Road**

The change in Cullen was noticeable as they all packed up their tents in the morning. Not that he was anything like his old self. But his brightly burning rage had died down to smoldering embers. There was still a haunted look in his eyes, and his expression was bleak. Elly supposed that was better than seething with anger. Or at least she hoped so.

Leliana wandered by, her eyes gleaming as she slyly dragged Elly aside. "I couldn't help noticing that our templar friend looks much more relaxed this morning. So did you two, you know…?" She raised her eyebrows suggestively.

"Leliana!" Elly sputtered.

"Oh, you can tell me! We are friends, aren't we? Friends talk about these sorts of things."

"No, we didn't. Not even close."

"Oh? Is that a hint of disappointment I hear?"

Elly groaned and lightly pushed the bard back in the direction she'd come from. "It's _far_ too early in the day for this. Go finish packing."

* * *

As they made their way along the road, Zevran sidled up alongside Cullen. "So what do you think of our leader, Ser Templar? She is a fine woman, no? I bet she drove you fellows wild back at the tower. I hear that when the moon swells to fullness, the mages of the Circle gather at the top floor of their tower and, naked under the stars, make love to each other." He blithely ignored the threatening way Elly was waving her staff at him.

Cullen stumbled over a rock as he stared at Zevran, mouth agape. "You're talking about Elly?" he gasped out once he'd caught his balance again.

Zevran tsked. "Ah, how can you use such a nickname? Her name is so sensual. Elessssse," he demonstrated, somehow making the words sound like a caress. "Elesse Surana. Now you try it."

The mage in question was now stalking towards him, staff leveled at his chest. "Maker help me, Zevran, if you don't _shut up right now_ I will incinerate you!"

The assassin gave her a lurid look. "So riled up! Oh, come now. You know you enjoy it. The way it rolls off the tongue. Makes you wonder what else I could do with this tongue, no?" He smirked at her, and then once more for good measure said, "Elesse." His eyebrows were just starting to waggle enticingly at her when Cullen's fist came crashing into his nose.

The blond elf was knocked off his feet and had to quickly roll to the side to avoid being stepped on by the golem lumbering behind him. Shale gave a sigh for missed opportunities. The rest watched in surprise as Zevran got back to his feet. Alistair was the one who eventually broke the silence. He'd come up to give Cullen a friendly slap on the shoulder and declare, "I've changed my mind. I think I like him."

Elly gave Cullen a quizzical look. He shrugged stiffly. "I didn't like the way he was looking at you."

She struggled to hold back the blush that was trying to creep across her face. She'd never hear the end of it if anyone else saw it. "Oh, Cullen," she sighed. "Zevran looks at _everyone_ that way. He looks at _you_ that way."

"Also I don't think he should- Wait, what?" The templar turned to look behind him, where Wynne was tending to Zevran's nose. Comments about bosoms were drifting up from that direction.

"I said he looks at _you_ that way too. Zev can't resist a man in uniform." She clamped her hand over her mouth to stifle laughter as she watched him squirm.

"Uh… oh," he said intelligently. "So he…?"

"Yes," Morrigan cut in impatiently. "Anything that moves. Can we go now?"

* * *

Eventually the band of darkspawn the Wardens had sensed during the night caught up with them. The group was prepared for it, with traps along the near edge of the road and Leliana and Morrigan taking cover on the far side. Elly and Wynne stood closer to the line of warriors in front, ready to assess their wounds and provide healing. As the grunting and growling of the darkspawn grew louder, Elly raised her staff and conjured a cone of frost to slow their assault.

As she finished her cast, she performed a quick check to make sure she was clear. Instead of a genlock rogue sneaking up behind her she found Cullen there, frantically looking back and forth between her and the darkspawn. "I'm not about to turn into an abomination right this second!" she shouted at him over the growing din of the battle. "Go stick your sword into a hurlock or something!"

She cursed as he took her advice with a wild abandon, charging past Shale and Alistair into the fray. She scrambled to call up freezing winds to hamper and slow the darkspawn starting to swarm around him. The rest of the companions in the melee took advantage of the distraction Cullen had provided and cut through the pack from behind, slicing their way up to him.

Elly and Wynne converged on the crowd while Leliana picked off the last remaining darkspawn with her bow. Wynne knelt to take a look at Alistair's leg while the younger mage stalked over to Cullen. "I said to kill the darkspawn, not kill yourself!"

Cullen stood very still, staring at the monstrous corpses around him. He actually looked bit astounded. "It felt…good. To have something I could _fight_."

As opposed to the intangible ghosts that haunted him, Elly supposed. "Um," she said uncertainly. How did you politely ask someone if they were about to go mad again? She searched his face for any sign of that cold anger building up. Not finding anything alarming, she released the breath she'd been holding. "Well I guess it's better than punching Zevran. Here, let me take a look at your arm."

As she reached for the bleeding arm to remove the gauntlet and bracer, she felt him startle. Immediately she let go and backed off a step. "Or if you'd rather have Wynne do it," she amended with a frown.

Cullen shook his head and held his injured arm out for her. He stood unnaturally still and watched her while she uncovered the wound, judged its depth and began a healing spell. Then she gently wiped up and blood and helped him replace the armor.

She tried to look him over for any other wounds but it was hard to concentrate with him staring at her so intently. "What is it?" she finally asked.

"Well, I understand now why you cut your robe up like that," he admitted. She gave him a small smile and didn't bother to correct him as to who had done the cutting. Cullen wasn't done however. "But couldn't you wear pants underneath? It's very distracting."

Elly turned away from the rest of the group to hide her rapidly reddening face. She heard a snicker from somewhere behind her. "I…need to go find a tree," she mumbled, and pushed her way off into the bushes.


	6. A Place to Rest

**A Place to Rest**

"Leliana, why don't you take Cullen and this letter to Mother Hannah?" Elly waved a hand at the path leading down to Redcliffe's Chantry. "And explain the circumstances. I should get to the castle. I'm sure Irving is wondering what's taken us so long to get here."

Cullen unsurprisingly ignored this suggestion and followed right behind her through the gates to the bridge. "There's an abomination in there."

Elly groaned under her breath but kept up a quick pace. She'd known this was coming and she'd been dreading it. "There won't be for long. If you're afraid I'll falter in the Fade, then you can watch. But I don't want you touching the boy unless I fail."

She couldn't see the templar's face but she heard his voice grow stern. "I don't see that it's your decision to make. The rest of your group may take their orders from you, but mine come from the Chantry."

Elly stopped and spun around so suddenly he nearly ran into her. "Yes, exactly. You should go report to the Chantry. It's _that_ way." She pointed back over his shoulder and stared at him meaningfully. When he didn't budge, she gave him a push. It only aggravated her further when his heavy armor and larger stature kept him firmly planted. "We just walked all the way to the Circle Tower and back to save this boy and now you want to just go in there and slaughter him!"

"It's the only way to be sure," he insisted. "Demons can lay dormant; lulling you into thinking you're safe."

"No, Cullen!" She bristled and rolled up onto the balls of her feet so she didn't have to look up at him. "Don't do this again!" Words alone didn't feel adequate, so she slid forward, trying to rattle him by standing too close. Anything to fracture that assuredness that so clearly said his way was the _only_ way.

"Don't do what? Fight abominations? That's what templars do." Cullen didn't retreat. He certainly had a better chance of looking intimidating than the little elven mage. He turned her own tactics against her, shifting forward until their faces were only inches apart.

Elly's voice grew quiet but she didn't back down. She stood motionless, trying to fight the sudden vertigo. "Is it your job to kill an innocent child who could be saved? Is it your job to…? To…" She struggled to remain focused, but his close proximity seemed to send her thoughts scattering to the far edges of the universe.

"To what?" Cullen's voice had dropped to a whisper; he stood as frozen as she did. He'd had years to perfect this statue-like stance.

"So kiss her already!" An Antivan accent brought them crashing back to their surroundings. They sprung apart and swung to face the rest of the group. "Damn," the assassin muttered.

"Hah! Pay up!" Alistair crowed at him. Zevran sighed dramatically and tossed him a sovereign.

Elly was too flustered to give them the scathing look they deserved, but she bared her teeth at them. "Oh, we are definitely going to talk later." She turned back to Cullen, preparing to resume their argument, but he was holding up his hands in a gesture of peace.

She was surprised to find the templar's face had relaxed into resignation. "I'll give you two hours. And I'll be watching."

Tension she hadn't even been aware of began to drain from her shoulders. "Thank you." She hoped the weak smile she managed to summon was at least somewhat reassuring. "And don't worry, I won't fail."

Cullen dropped his voice again as he turned his back on their audience. "If anyone could do it, it'd be you." He tilted his head toward the castle, voice going gruff. "Better get going. Two hours."

* * *

Going after Conner's demon wasn't unlike the previous times she'd been sent unnaturally into the Fade. Keeping her time limit in mind, she raced through the twisted pathways occupied by the demon's minions, until she stumbled upon the master of the realm herself. She ignored the demon's words and attacked.

When she came back to herself, she was breathing hard as if she'd been running in truth. Her eyes sought out Cullen's; he was nearby, as she'd known he would be. "I defeated the demon." She could only hope he'd hold to their agreement. She was too exhausted to fight him if he didn't.

He barely acknowledged her, absorbed in some kind of internal struggle. She felt her stomach sink. But then he came over and helped her to her feet. He was searching her face intently for something, though she wasn't sure what it might be. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure." She shook off the last remnants of dream-like fog. "How is Conner? And is Arl Eamon awake? I'd like to see them."

"The Arl is still unconscious. The boy claims he doesn't even remember what happened; just that he was wishing his father would get well."

She had to lean on him to get down the hallway. It painfully brought to mind how she'd tried to push him during their argument. "Cullen? I'm sorry things got so heated earlier. I know you were trying to do your duty. But I had to do mine, too."

She expected at least a stern look, but he merely looked bemused as he helped her out of the room. "Back when you were at the tower, I never would've thought you'd have such a temper."

"Neither did I," she admitted sheepishly. "I only seem to lose it when I'm around you."

His lips turned down into a puzzled frown. "Being around me makes you angry?"

"Being around you makes me…something." Just so he wouldn't think it was a _bad_ something, she slid her hand down his arm to squeeze his hand. He clasped hers in return and didn't release it.

They slowly made their way down the silent hallway.

* * *

Elly was repacking her freshly laundered clothing when Cullen burst into her room without knocking. "Conscript me," he said.

The mage finished folding her spare robe and set it down next to her pack on the bed. "What?" If it had been Zevran that would have been innuendo for sure, but Cullen didn't seem like the type.

"Make me a Grey Warden," he insisted. When she shook her head, he continued, "I want to fight the darkspawn."

"Cullen, we _can't_ do the Joining. We don't know how."

"I need to do _something_. I need to, or I'll, I'll…" He slammed his fist into the door frame, making her flinch.

"Then stay here, help these people recover from this tragedy. It will take time for the recalled knights to return. Keep them safe in the meantime. Don't let Loghain sneak in any more blood mages." Not that the last was likely but she hoped it sounded convincing.

"You're asking me to sit here in this desolate village while you run off to stop the Blight? Why? I'd say you could use all the help you can get."

She was sorely tempted to just accept his offer of aid, but she shook her head. "We each have our own separate duties."

His fists clenched. "It's not a templar's duty to stand guard over a ghost town."

"I thought it might help you find peace." Suddenly the crushing burden she always carried dragged her down, and she sank to the edge of the bed. Her voice was so weak he had to lean forward to catch it. "It sounds like a dream. Peace and quiet; a place to rest. Away from all this overwhelming… need. Everyone needs me for something, needs me to accomplish something, needs me to _be_ something I'm not. It's more than I can bear sometimes. I'd give anything just to be back in the library at the tower…"

"I'd trade places with you if I could," he said earnestly. She acknowledged the sentiment with a bleak nod. Hesitantly, he sat down beside her, slid an arm around her shoulder, and offered what small comfort he had to give.


	7. A Perfect Afternoon

**A Perfect Afternoon**

Guilt hastened Elly's steps as she and Bann Teagan brought the pouch of sacred ashes up to Arl Eamon's room. It'd been months since she'd last been here, and she hoped it wasn't too late. Who would've thought such a thing would actually exist though? It hadn't seemed practical to go chasing off after a story when she still needed to gather forces to face the Blight. So she'd gone to Orzammar and gotten tangled up in the political situation there. After what felt like an entirety of roaming the Deep Roads, she'd been able to return to the surface with a promise of troops from King Bhelen.

Of course by the time they'd gotten to Denerim, Brother Genitivi was gone. They'd only found a man who claimed to be his assistant. He'd attacked them when they insisted on seeing Genitivi's notes. They found the real assistant's body hidden in the back room. It was only then that she'd begun to suspect there might be more than a simple legend involved.

So they'd followed Genitivi's trail to the disturbing town of Haven. They'd had to fight the cultist inhabitants all the way to the temple that housed the Urn. The Guardian, some kind of spirit she guessed, had known far more about them than he should have. And then he'd sent them into the ghost-filled, trial-ridden Gauntlet. Elly would never have believed such things could exist if she had not seen them with her own eyes.

So she held her breath as they used the ashes on Eamon. She didn't let it out until the arl finally stirred and reached for his wife. Relieved, she backed out of the room to give the reunited family privacy.

* * *

Elly quietly slipped out of the main hall and made her way to the courtyard. The conclusion of the hasty conference she'd had with Eamon, Teagan, and Alistair was that they'd be leaving tomorrow morning for Denerim. It only gave the arl a little over half a day to regain his strength, but they couldn't afford to wait longer.

The courtyard door was within reach when a silky voice rang out behind her. "Ah, sneaking out for a lover's tryst are we?"

Elly's lips twisted in annoyance as she slowly turned to face the Antivan assassin. "Perhaps I just wanted to go for a walk, enjoy the beautiful afternoon. It's not often we get the chance."

"Ah, well in that case, perhaps I shall join you."

"Zevran…" As usual, Elly was unable to keep her countenance when teased about this subject. She turned away to deny him the satisfaction of seeing color spread across her cheeks. She couldn't understand why he even bothered with this game; it was no challenge at all.

"Ah, I thought as much. Well, when you tire of all that cold, hard steel, you know where to find me." He grinned at her wickedly.

Elly escaped into the warm air of the courtyard, only to come across Wynne idling on the steps. It looked suspiciously like an ambush. She couldn't imagine the old woman would choose to sit on the hard stone for any other reason.

Resignation settled over Elly as she perched nearby. Her respect for the senior mage was too great to just brush the woman off. "I suppose you're disappointed in me."

Wynne sadly shook her head. "No, I'm not disappointed. I'm concerned about you." She put a hand on the younger mage's shoulder and studied her gravely. "You know as well as I do there's no good way for this to end. You should try to put it from your mind. Focus on your duty instead, it will see you through."

Frustration leaked into Elly's voice. "I've tried, Wynne. Truly I have. I'm…not as strong as you are."

"Don't sell yourself short, child. You have strength within you. More so than I when…" Wynne's eyes swelled with old memories. There was a long moment of silence before she shook off the past. "Love is ultimately selfish. It demands that one be devoted to a single person, who may fully occupy one's mind and heart, to the exclusion of all else. A Grey Warden cannot afford to be selfish."

"I understand, Wynne." Elly _did_ understand this, in her head. It was her heart that wouldn't, couldn't, get the message.

"But you're going down there anyway."

Elly didn't need to respond; Wynne already knew the answer. She shrugged helplessly and got to her feet, leaving the other woman alone with her regrets.

She'd barely made it across the courtyard when she was drawn to a halt yet again. The bridge to the village was actually _shaking_ as a large, angry golem stomped across it. Shale was chasing after any birds unfortunate enough to land on this lofty perch. "Um, Shale? Try not to break anything."

"I'll break their necks! Stomp their nasty feathered bodies into a pulp!"

"I meant the bridge, actually." Elly waited until the golem stilled before she cautiously approached.

"It needn't worry about that. The bridge is good, solid stone. Not as durable as myself of course, but still not bad." Elly nodded and made to bolt across the bridge before Shale caught sight of another bird. The golem spoke before she'd gotten very far. "I suppose it is looking for that shiny tin can. I can't imagine what it sees in the crazy one."

"Not you too," Elly groaned. "He's not really crazy, he's just… He's had a lot of…" She didn't want to discuss Cullen's sanity with Shale; she didn't want to admit she couldn't understand it herself. "Is that a pigeon over there?" She got off the bridge as quickly as she could while the golem stomped off to the far end.

Annoyance slowly evaporated as she took in the calm warmth of the perfect afternoon. The sunlight sparkled on the lake and painted the trees with vibrant green life. The scent of death that had prevailed during her last visit was gone, replaced by the smell of herbs and fish. Hardly any signs remained to remind her of the disaster that took place months ago. By the time she'd walked the winding path down to the chantry she felt almost renewed.

There was no sign of Cullen in the chantry, but she did come across Leliana. The bard knelt in prayer, her face filled with an intimidating awe. Elly tried to back away without disturbing her, but Leliana noticed and got to her feet with a smile. "I'm glad you've come. I'd hoped we'd get a chance to talk about it."

Elly's thoughts ran along the same lines they had all day. "Not you as well! I don't want to talk about him, I've heard enough about it!"

Leliana frowned. "You…don't want to talk about the Maker? But why else would you have come here? I know you were skeptical before, but after seeing- Oh!" Puzzlement vanished and she giggled conspiratorially. "You are looking for your templar friend."

"Maybe we can speak about the ashes later," Elly offered by way of apology for her outburst.

"Of course." Leliana winked at her. "I think he is down by the lake." Elly nodded her gratitude and headed in that direction.

It wasn't long before she caught sight of something glinting in the sunlight by the lake. She recognized his statue-like stance even before she could make out the templar armor. Light danced as reflections of the sunlit water rippled across plate armor. She stopped at an unintrusive distance. "I'm glad you stayed. I was afraid you'd go back to the tower with Irving."

She didn't approach him until he'd acknowledged her presence with a nod. Her eyes drank him in, but she tried to examine him clinically. His eyes looked clearer, as if the ghosts that haunted him were losing substance. He appeared calm enough, but there was a distance, a stiffness, that hadn't been there the last time she'd seen him. "You look a bit better..."

"I guess I owe you my thanks after all. It's been…restful here." He indicated the vista before them.

"I'm glad to hear it." She reached out to rest a hand on his arm. "Cullen, I-"

The mournful look he gave her stilled her tongue. He gently, but firmly, removed her hand from his arm. "We shouldn't."

She gulped back the bitter taste of disappointment. The hand he'd moved fell listlessly to her side. "I…guess not," she acknowledged. _But I want to_, she thought. She mumbled some excuse, she didn't know what, and turned from the lake. He watched her as she walked away. She climbed back up the winding path as the perfect afternoon turned bleak and gray around her.


	8. The Broom Closet

**The Broom Closet**

Elly looked down every hallway, peeked in every room, on the way to Riordan's chamber. If Alistair was irritated at the delay he didn't show it. She knew the Orlesian Warden was waiting for them. Somewhere in the back of her mind she wondered why he needed to discuss the archdemon with them in private. The rest of her thoughts revolved around Cullen; she didn't know whether he'd survived the attack on the village.

"You could find Mother Hannah after we see Riordan," her fellow Grey Warden finally suggested. "Plenty of people should know where she's at, and she should know who made it here from the chantry." She had to agree it was probably her best bet.

Riordan's news was staggering. She could understand why they didn't advertise that it took the sacrifice of a Grey Warden to kill the archdemon to recruits... But it was a terrible shock for her to learn it _now_. She envied Alistair his ability to set the matter aside and focus on preparing the army.

Elly was left to wander the chaotic halls of the overcrowded castle. Eventually she convinced someone to take her to Mother Hannah, and learned from her that Cullen was in the infirmary. Despite the Revered Mother's assurance that his injury wasn't serious, she found herself rushing through the hallways.

She almost missed Cullen in her first glance at the infirmary. She caught sight of his copper curls, but the fact that he wasn't wearing his templar armor threw her off. But of course he wouldn't be wearing it in the infirmary. Before she knew it she was at his side assessing his wounded knee. Just a quick healing spell and it'd be a bit sore but functional.

He smiled thinly at her as the pain eased up. Then he glanced meaningfully at the rest of the infirmary, and she was immediately ashamed of her thoughtlessness. She felt like a scolded child as she approached the nearest healer and offered to help with the cases that were beyond their resources.

Cullen was on his feet by the time she was done. She looked drained as she approached him. "Cullen, can we talk? Please?"

She wasn't sure if it was her imagination, but he didn't seem as distant without his armor between them. Her request surprised him. "What did you need to talk about?"

"It's just…" She faltered. "Can we go somewhere private? Some of this isn't general knowledge."

He was silent for so long she thought he was going to refuse. But finally he nodded and led her out into the hallway. "Space is in short supply but I know of one room that should be empty." Except that when they got there she found it wasn't so much a room as a large closet with a cot stuffed in it. "It's a little cramped, but more private than the barracks. So what do you need to talk about?"

Elly took a deep breath. "I'm sure you've heard that the darkspawn are headed to Denerim, and that we'll be following." He acknowledged this, and she continued. "I don't know if you've heard that the archdemon has been seen. I found out tonight why it takes a Grey Warden to kill it."

Cullen looked puzzled. "Grey Warden secrets? I don't understand why you're telling me this."

Her reply was so rushed it was nearly unintelligible. "It takes a Grey Warden to destroy the archdemon. There's only the three of us. And the Warden who kills the archdemon dies. Alistair is the king, so if Riordan fails, I… I'll have to do it. Maybe it's selfish of me, but I wanted to see you one last time."

Cullen was shaking his head in denial. "No, surely you've done enough already."

Her voice grew bleak. "It's the reason the order exists. Nothing I've done will matter if we fail to slay it. It's the only way to end the Blight."

They were only a few feet apart, but he closed the gap. She recognized the same longing for battle she'd seen in him months earlier. "Then make me a Grey Warden. The more you have the better your chance of success. You have this Riordan fellow now. He must know how to do it."

"No…" She brought a finger to his lips to stifle his protests. "Even if I thought that was a good idea, there simply isn't time. Preparations aren't even complete and we're supposed to be on the road by daybreak…"

"It isn't fair, you know. For you to keep saving me, and never give me a chance to return the favor. And now you say you might have to…" Desperation filled his eyes, and he crushed her to him so tightly it drove the air from her lungs.

She coughed, and he loosened his hold apologetically. But before he could think to escape, she ran a hand across his shirt, feeling the muscle beneath. Though he was fully clothed, witnessing him without his ever present shell was like seeing him naked. His breath caught at her touch and he pulled her to him again, gently this time. She grabbed a handful of those enticing curls and pulled his head down. She was lost in his intent gaze for an eternity. Then their lips met.

There was a fire in her center and it was melting her from the inside out. His hand moved down her hip to find the slit in the side of her robe, and they shared a smile because for once he did not object to it _at_ _all_. His touch had her thrumming with frantic energy. When he hesitated, looking for some sign from her, she whimpered in protest. "Don't stop."

And he didn't.

* * *

Most of the castle had retired for the night by the time Elly crept back down the hallway. When she finally made it to her room, Morrigan was waiting for her.


	9. The Choices We Make

**The Choices We Make**

Elly knew that Alistair hadn't liked being left at the gates. But a king was too important a figure to risk in such a desperate assignment. Instead she'd taken Shale, Sten, and Zevran with her into Denerim. They'd fought through what felt like countless numbers of darkspawn, and finally reached the district housing Fort Drakon.

A deafening roar resonated through the streets, and high above them they saw the archdemon. Almost more horrifying than the beast itself was the sight of a tiny figure clutching its back, and then falling, falling, to dash upon the ground. It could only be Riordan. Elly watched the wounded creature struggle and fall to the fort's rooftop. She hoped she'd made the right decision concerning it.

It wasn't that she mistrusted Morrigan; she and the witch understood each other. Their shared thirst for knowledge had culminated in a sort of awkward kinship. In the earlier days, Elly had found it more comfortable to sit apart with Morrigan, speaking of magic, than to join the others at the main campfire. She'd share lore from the tower's library, and Morrigan would teach her of shapeshifting and herbalism.

A child born with the soul of an old god, cleansed of the taint… She found the idea fascinating. "Some things are worth preserving in this world," Morrigan had said, and Elly agreed.

The witch had looked so sincere, even after the ritual, when there was nothing to gain by pretending. She'd seemed genuinely touched when she thanked Elly. "This… means everything to me, you cannot know."

Elly's guilt came from the part she'd had to ask Alistair to play in the ritual. He'd been adamantly against it, and she'd had to lean on him in a way she instantly regretted. She'd almost backed down, but then the realization came that, in spite of her duty, she very much wanted to live. It seemed a horribly cruel joke that as soon she'd found something worth living for, she was to give up her life. So she'd said what she had to, and spent a sleepless night brooding over the consequences.

Deliberately she pushed such thoughts away and focused on the mass of darkspawn that blocked their path instead.

* * *

Elly lay dazed on the roof of Fort Drakon, eyes squeezed tight. She remembered charging the archdemon, plunging a sword into its head. Then the world had exploded in light, and they'd been buffeted by some kind of force. She needed to see if the beast was truly dead, but when she tried to open her eyes, the daylight seared her. Spots danced across her vision to the rhythm of the pulsing, stabbing pain. She was forced to close them again. "Sten?" she called out uncertainly. "Shale?"

"I am here," a gravelly voice rumbled to her right.

"Shale? Can you see? Is the archdemon…?"

"Head cut open like a melon," the golem confirmed. Elly heard her shuffle closer. "Apparently even its eyes are weak and squishy. That must be terribly inconvenient."

"Can you see Sten? And Zevran?" Shale assured her that they were alive, though unconscious. As were most of the other survivors. With the golem standing guard over them, Elly curled into a ball and wrapped her arms around her head, as if she could push back the pain.

She wasn't sure if it was minutes or hours later, but eventually she heard the sound of reinforcements arriving, too late to take part in the battle. A hand on her shoulder startled her, and she was surprised to hear a familiar voice. "It's okay, it's okay," he assured her. Her eyes fluttered open in surprise. The stabbing pain soon drew them shut again, but not before she'd gotten a hazy glimpse of his face. He was _here_, here with her, and everything was okay.

* * *

By the time they'd cleared out a handful of the rooms below for temporary use, Elly's vision had cleared. She had the worst headache of her life, but the archdemon was dead, she was alive, and the Blight was ended. And Cullen sat in a chair pulled up next to her cot. The rest of the room was empty; apparently the "Hero of Ferelden" got to have her own room to recuperate in.

She looked at Cullen. He wore a few bandages himself, but he sat peacefully in the chair, watching her. His grin reminded her of a boy she'd known long ago, in the library of the Circle Tower.

Elly sat up, folding her legs in front of her on the cot. "How did you get here? I didn't think the rest of the army was anywhere nearby…"

"After we held the rest of their forces off at the gate, a group of us split off to reinforce you. Not that there was anything left to kill by the time we got here."

"I'm glad you came anyway."

They sat in companionable silence for a while, enjoying the chance to simply rest. Then a look of puzzlement slowly crept across Cullen's face and he pushed to his feet, approaching the side of her cot. "If you're feeling better, there's something I wanted to ask you about…"

Elly felt an icy chill of panic. She'd expected to have more time, to think and to come up with something reasonable. Something close to the truth, perhaps, but without the potential for danger. "What did you want to know?" she managed to choke the words out.

"About what you told me before. King Alistair was at the gates, and I didn't see Riordan up on the roof. And they are saying that you were the one to strike the final blow. How… how is that possible?"

She shrank back on her cot. Maybe she'd made the wrong choice after all. It might be better to be dead than face this. "Oh, Maker. You'll hate me…"

He gave no false reassurances that he could never hate her. They both knew that wasn't true. "Just tell me."

"After we… After I saw you in Redcliffe, Morrigan came to me and told me about a ritual she knew. One that could let us kill the archdemon without dying."

His face hardened, and it made her cringe. "What kind of ritual?" he demanded. He was no longer just Cullen, as she'd seen him that night in Redcliffe. He was back to being Cullen the templar.

Elly wasn't glib. She'd never been able to convince people to see things her way without a great deal of prior preparation and thought. If she tried to come up with a lie right now she'd trip up. "Not the usual kind of magic," she admitted.

"Blood magic?" he asked her, and when he saw no denial forthcoming, his voice rose to an intimidating volume. "You performed blood magic? How could you! Blood magic!"

"Well _I _didn't," she protested. "Morrigan did it. I wasn't even there."

"Oh, she did it without your approval, did she?" he growled scornfully. He was trembling with anger, but instead of rising the color seemed to be draining from his face.

"Well no not exactly…"

"What were you thinking!" he shouted, making a grab at her shoulder. She was ready for it though, and rolled off the far side. He made a lunge, trying to reach her over the cot, but she backed away. She gulped in air nervously. He was _very_ angry, but maybe once he'd calmed down, she could talk him around. Maybe it would still be okay.

She waited to see which side he'd come around on, but he stayed where he was, leaning heavily on the cot. Then he slowly slid to the ground, clutching at his sword arm. "Cullen?" She darted after him, searching for the cause of his collapse. "Is it one of your injuries?"

He didn't answer her or try to move. He just lay there, breathing raggedly, as she moved his other arm out of her way. She slowly peeled back the bandage, wrinkling her nose at the smell of infection.

When she saw the place where his flesh had been torn up by teeth, she realized _nothing_ was okay. Nothing at all.


	10. The Price We Pay

**The Price We Pay**

Elly bolted down the hallway to meet the arriving forces from the gates. The troops not engaged in sweeping the city had been trickling in all day. She'd nearly gone mad with frustration when, one after another, they weren't the group she was waiting for. But now they were finally here.

"Alistair!" She unceremoniously dragged him away from the others. "Alistair, please tell me you know where Riordan's papers are. And the key he gave us to decrypt them, in case he…"

"And good to see you as well. I'm doing alright too, thank you for asking."

"Alistair!" she snapped before he could continue along that vein.

The show of humor dropped from his face, to be replaced by exhaustion. "Alright. Why don't you tell me what's going on."

She launched into her explanation. "Some of the soldiers are sick with the taint. From the battle. Not all the cases are dire. But the ones that are, if we offer them the Joining… We might be able to save a few of them. And start rebuilding the Grey Wardens."

"Some of the soldiers," he repeated, eyeing her critically.

It seemed to burst from her without volition. "Cullen! Cullen is sick. Alistair, please…"

"Ah," he replied, considering. "The encryption notes I kept with me. The copies of the Joining ritual should still be at our camp outside the city." He paused, watching her carefully. "I can send for them, if you really think this is a good idea. But you must realize, the chances aren't good."

With nothing to do now but wait, the frantic energy drained from her. Despair rose up in its place. "I know," she told him. "But I have to try."

* * *

By the time Riordan's papers were brought to her, Elly had already collected vials of blood from darkspawn and the archdemon itself. She supposed they'd have to collect and preserve all they could from the dragon, but there'd be time for that later. She'd carried some lyrium and her own bag of potion-making supplies into the room she'd had cleared for her use.

She wanted to hurry, hurry, but she forced herself to carefully read the papers. A mistake might prove more fatal than delay. It felt like it took her forever and she was sure it'd be too late, but finally she finished.

While she'd worked, Alistair had gone to the infirmary to explain their offer to the sickest of the soldiers. They had the choice to certainly die (if not something worse) or probably die. Most chose the latter and began to trickle in, with or without assistance. Elly made the helpers leave once their charges were settled into the room. She was just starting to worry that maybe Cullen wouldn't even come, when Alistair entered the room with the templar in tow. Her fellow Warden gave them a moment of privacy while he gathered the other soldiers around the center of the room.

Elly could tell Cullen was still angry with her, but above all he looked very sick. "Cullen," she whispered. "If things don't go well… I just wanted you to know. I love you."

He sighed weakly. "I've always loved you. How fitting it would be the death of me."

The last comment gnawed at her. She looked at him questioningly, but he'd closed up again. And they were running out of time. Solemnly, they joined the rest of the group.

"This is your last chance to change your mind," she told them. "And then we'll lock the door, and it won't be unlocked until every single one of you has gone through the ritual."

It was far worse than she could have imagined. So many, most of them in fact, died. But she was forced to go on, relentlessly, and offer to each one a sip of death. The few that survived were placed on palettes by the doorway. The bodies were dragged to the far end of the room.

Cullen came forward last of all, as if to torment her as much as possible. The crushing pain in her chest denied her breath as she watched him drink. He shook and started to sink to his knees and she went with him, desperately clutching him as if she could physically hold him in this world. When his breathing finally steadied and his eyes twitched with dreams, she found herself sobbing with relief.

* * *

Neither Elly nor Alistair could find much time to spare for the new Wardens in the month that followed. Elly supposed they'd have to wait for the arrival of the other Wardens to begin their training. She felt bad about neglecting them, but she had to fulfill the promise she'd made Alistair after Landsmeet. She couldn't refuse him when he'd all but begged her to stay and help him. Not when she'd been the one to put him in the situation. And she couldn't go back on her promise. Not when she owed her life to him agreeing to do Morrigan's ritual for her.

When the palace district had been cleared and given what quick repairs they could offer, a coronation ceremony was announced. Alistair and Anora were to be presented as King and Queen. And afterward, there'd be a celebration to honor those who'd stopped the Blight.

Elly wished she could skip the celebration, but she guessed it was the closest thing to a rest day she was going to get. She'd expected a break after killing the archdemon, but it turned out there were a million things that needed to be done and none of them could wait. So she attended without too much complaint. Though when Alistair called her up to the dais, she made a face at him when only he could see it.

After Alistair's speech, she was free to roam, and she finally managed to corner Cullen. She didn't know if he'd been avoiding her or if her busy schedule was to blame, but she'd seen him only rarely over the past month. Though he was now a Grey Warden, he could still call up that rigid templar stance, and he used it like a shield against her.

She was disappointed by his reaction, but steeled herself to continue anyway. "I was hoping we could talk, while we have the chance. Things have been so chaotic."

His stoic expression cracked just a little. "I heard you plan to stay in Denerim."

"I'll help Alistair, at least until things are running smoothly again. Though Maker knows how long that will take. We've lost so much…" She feared she was about to lose even more. "You… You could stay here too."

He shook his head, and even though she'd expected it, it tore at her. "When the Orlesian Wardens arrive, I'll be going with them to Amaranthine."

"I see." She wanted desperately to see the real him again, not this mask he wore of grimness and coldness and death. "Cullen, was it really so wrong of me to want to live?"

His mouth clenched, but he didn't seem able to tell her it was wrong. He shook his head.

It was just a tiny ray of hope, but she clung to it, trying to find her way out of the darkness. "Do you think you'll ever be able to forgive me?"

"I don't know," he sighed.

* * *

Just a week shy of a year after the archdemon's death, Elly excused herself from court. Under the tutelage of Anora, Alistair had grown into his role as king. The royal couple was already much loved by their subjects, and now they'd seemed to reach an understanding between themselves.

The journey to Redcliffe was an uneventful one. If the guards were surprised when she, upon arriving, cut down to the village instead of up to the castle, they didn't mention it to her.

She was halfway through the village when she saw him, standing like a statue by the lake. He was where she'd found him the day she'd returned with the sacred ashes. But he wasn't staring out at the water this time. Instead he watched the path that cut through the village, looking for all the world like he was waiting for someone to come walking down it.

* * *

Note: The story now continues in The Mage's Vigil, set during the Awakening time period.


End file.
